Inhibitions
by Woe is Wendy
Summary: Antonio and Francis have a tryst in a school bathroom stall. PWP. (religious undertones)


**Inhibitions**

**Antonio and Francis have a tryst in a school bathroom stall. PWP.**

Icy dread rooted itself deep into Antonio's chest as he was slammed against the cubicle door. The loud bang of backbone and shoulder blade against wood was quickly followed by the metallic clink of the lock. Francis' gaze did not leave the Spaniard's bewildered eyes as his hand moved from stomach to ribs to collar. All Antonio could do was stare back, mouth dry.

"What's wrong?" Fair fingers ran over sun-kissed cheeks, brushed chestnut hair from emerald eyes.

"…I'm not sure." Antonio purses his lips, briefly, and looks away.

"What do you mean?" The gentle query is followed by a brief kiss. Francis' lips linger as he adds, quietly, "You were more than willing before."

"Indeed, I was." The brunet laughs nervously. "I guess I'm just afraid."

"Of what?"

The question draws painfully shameful memories from the Spaniard's mind, like fishnets drawing bones from water. His mind goes back to long, hot July afternoons from awkward pubescence till now. The familiar sensation of his own hand, calloused from housework, stroking his member; the sunlight reaching through the gap in the drawn curtains to catch his tousled hair, tinting it copper; his soft, short breaths that culminate to lengthy groans as he comes. Most vividly, he remembers the post-coital guilt: the realization that he had just derived such sinful pleasure from the thought of another man touching him, tasting him. He remembers his staring at the ceiling as his heart continues to hammer hard, glancing briefly to the small crucifix at the corner of his desk before throwing an arm over his eyes.

But the only thing he says is: "What if we are found?"

Francis places a comforting kiss on the other's cheek. His lips move to his ear. "No one comes to this bathroom, especially not after school. It's too far away from the main block." His tongue nibbles his classmate's earlobe before trailing slowly down. He stops at the base of the neck, where his teeth takes over, biting hard enough to leave imprints. Antonio shivers, and he begins to feel his nerves unwind, slowly.

He's not sure what to do, so he places his hands on his friend's hips as the latter begins unbuttoning his white, collared uniform top. He makes quick work of removing the brunet's maroon necktie- part of the school uniform- letting it fall to the ground; the shirt quickly followed. Smooth hands trace the topless teenager's toned abdomen and run up his back. A small sound reverberates from the back of his throat as his nipple is enveloped by his companion's mouth; licking, nibbling, sucking. The blond's hands dip into the small of the brunet's back and rubs circles into the skin before the palms slip past the tight waist-band of his pants and briefs to cup firm buttocks. His mouth moves back to the Spaniard's lips and his tongue prods them apart.

Antonio's eyes close fully as he tastes Francis' tongue running over his own, past his teeth, and running over the inside of his cheeks. The friction of Francis' starchy shirt and tie against his bare skin is a thrilling sensation, and his arms encircle his partner's torso to press his chest against his own. In response, the French teen took to grinding against his classmate. The Spaniard pulled away from the deep kiss to catch a breath.

"You're already hard…" Francis remarked in amusement. Antonio began to flush in embarrassment.

"S…sorry."

"What?" The blond laughed. "No, no, don't be; I'm flattered." He gave a particularly hard grind. The Spaniard held back a scream, releasing a strained whine instead.

"It's funny. You're always so excited, enthusiastic, and unabashed in class. I don't think I've ever seen you this inhibited, Antonio." He smirked at his flustered companion. "Also, this has been the longest time I've been with you without you uttering a word."

"Um, I'm…sorry."

Francis laughed again. "It's alright, _mon cher_."

The blond unbuttoned the brunet's trousers and pulled the zipper down. He slipped his hand into Antonio's briefs and took hold of his erection, stroking it. The Spaniard's knees buckled, and he fell forward, grabbing hold of Francis' shoulders to keep from collapsing. He cursed breathily as the slit was thumbed and pre-cum smeared around. His hips began bucking into the other's hand. The only thing audible in the poorly-ventilated bathroom was Antonio's breath.

All of a sudden, he stopped pumping. Antonio whined when contact was suddenly lost. His trousers and briefs were pulled down to his ankles. The blond put the lid to the toilet down and pushed the brunet onto it. The cold lid on his bare bottom made him shift uncomfortably as the trousers and underwear were completely yanked off his legs, along with his shoes. Francis knelt before him, grabbed his knees, and pulled them apart. He took a moment to admire the body before him. Antonio's cheeks reddened upon realizing that he was completely naked – save for his socks- before his still fully-clothed classmate.

His self-consciousness receded when his erection was suddenly enveloped in the heat of the blond's mouth. He felt his tongue glide along his shaft as he sucked and slowly took in more at a time. He gasped, toes curling. Francis hummed. Antonio moaned in response, grabbing the blond's head with both hands.

Francis' eyes shot open when Antonio suddenly thrust into his throat. He pulled away and gagged, coughing violently, startling his partner.

"_Merde…_" Francis swore.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Antonio's eyes were wide with worry. "I-"

"It's okay," He coughed again, and picked up Antonio's necktie from the floor. "You just need to keep your hands to yourself, _cher_."

Antonio was stunned as Francis grabbed both his arms, lifted them up and proceeded to bind his wrists with the necktie. Francis secured them to the pipe above the canister. When the Frenchman pulled back to admire his handiwork, Antonio moved his hands about in an attempt to break free, but found it impossible. Francis grinned.

"Now, where were we?"

The predatory look in the Frenchman's eyes sent Antonio into a mild panic. This felt too familiar, being bound. In his mind's eye, he saw himself, from two years ago, bound, beaten, sworn at by an angry father who claimed he'd rather have a dead son than a gay one. Antonio did his best to quell the rising fear.

The blond did not seem to notice. Returning to his knees, Francis got between Antonio's legs and ran white hands down tanned thighs, pulling the bound Spaniard closer. Most of his lower back was now on the seat, while his bottom was off it. He rested the brunet's legs over each shoulder.

His firm hands supported his thighs as Francis leaned in and licked the brunet's puckered entrance. He closed his eyes, circled the tight opening, teasing it.

"Francis? What a-…aah!"

His questioned turned into a cry as Francis' tongue pushed in. The wet muscle explored the virgin inner walls before thrusting in and out for a minute or two. The penetration was shallow, what with the limitation in tongue length, but it made the brunet's cock painfully erect. He writhed about on the seat, biting on his lip. The sensation of the slippery organ moving inside him was pushing him to the edge.

When Francis pulled back, blood was running down the Spaniard's mouth where his incisors pierced his bottom lip.

"…Antonio?"

"Francis…please…" Desperation was evident in his hazy eyes.

"In a moment; you aren't properly prepared."

Francis pulled a tube of lube from his pocket and coated his fingers in it. He traced a finger round the now slightly-loosened rim before pushing in easily. He worked on stretching out the tighter deeper walls where his tongue did not reach. Antonio's thighs quivered as the finger moved in deep, and he moaned deeply. Francis slowly inserted a second finger in, and thrust them steadily. When he looked up, the sight before him took him slightly aback.

Sweat coated his bronze skin in a glistening sheen, and travelled along the contours of his abdomen in rivulets. _(When did it get so hot in here?) _His muscles were tense; his tendons stood out on his strained neck as his chest heaved up and down with each labored breath he drew. His face...his olive complexion was heavily tinted red. His expression was a wild mix of agony and wanton lust. Francis looked closer, fingers still moving, knuckles sliding up against the rim. There was something else in Antonio's face, something else he was trying to suppress.

It was shame. And somehow, the realization made Francis' own erection painfully hard.

Antonio's eyes had just begun to water, and his vision blurred. He whined as Francis pulled his fingers back, leaving a pang of emptiness in its wake. Blinking the tears away, he gazed up at Francis as he pulled his pants and briefs down to expose his swollen erection. He cursed in his native tongue as he lubed it up quickly. Antonio's anticipation grew at the erotic sight.

Pulling tan legs over his shoulder, his hand pulled his partner's ass cheeks apart as the other hand guided his cock to the entrance. The Spaniard twisted his face away and screwed his eyes shut.

"_Chéri_, please, look at me." Francis panted. It took all his strength and patience not to thrust in at that moment. "Please, I want to see you. I want to see the look in your eyes as you are taken for the first time."

Suppressing his embarrassment, Antonio did as he was told, heart hammering.

Francis leaned down to plant a kiss on his forehead and slowly penetrated him. His face lingered mere inches above the brunet's as the organ plunged deep. A low, throaty moan escaped the Spaniard's parted lips. His brows were furrowed in slight pain, despite the preparation, yet his glazed emerald irises did not leave Francis' own sapphire gaze. The cock entering him felt much bigger than it looked, and Antonio could have sworn that he could feel every ridge and pulsing vein as it stretched him wide. Francis panted as he felt himself running against tight, hot walls, sending sparks from his pelvis up his spine. When he was all the way in, the body beneath him shuddered deliciously.

"….I'm…moving."

The rhythm started slow, and they both savored the new-found sensation connecting them. Francis' hands stroked his torso and felt the muscles contracting and tightening with every movement he made. As his partner's breaths became audibly shorter and quicker, the blond readjusted the angle of his thrusts, in search of the prostate. He knew he'd hit the sensitive bundle of nerves when the Spaniard's panting gave way to loud moans. Antonio opened an eye, and saw a crooked grin plaster the Frenchman's flushed, angular face, framed by matted golden hair. His chest tightened at the sight. It was almost frightful.

"Fra-a…aaaah!" The Spaniard's voice rose as Francis assaulted his prostate mercilessly. Antonio's legs slipped down in favor of wrapping around the blond's torso, pulling the Frenchman closer, strengthening his thrusts. His bound hands yearned for purchase, but restricted above his head, he clenched them tightly into fists, nails digging harder at soft flesh each time Francis' member hit home. It was hot, much too hot. It felt almost feverish as a deep blush rose up his cheeks and his chest.

A pale hand slipped between them and held Antonio's dick, sliding up and down, thumbing the slit, spreading the precum. Antonio threw his head back with a harsh cry, exposing his neck. Francis brought his mouth to it and bit, licked, sucked hard. It mingled with the wet sounds of his hand pumping the brunet's dick, the slap of their bodies as he thrust hard enough to bruise, and Antonio's voice, rising in pitch and volume.

"C-com..ing…aaaah! Fuh…Francis!" Antonio warned between throaty moans. A stray drop of tear trailed down his cheek.

He held Antonio's face in his hand as his other tightened the grip on his dick, wiping the tear away. His thumb found its way into the Spaniard's mouth and ran over his pink tongue experimentally. The Spaniard sucked hard on it as he was pushed closer to the edge. Pleasant tingles ran through the Frenchman's tongue all the way up his arm.

A sharp cry rang out in the bathroom as Antonio's ejaculated hard and fast, spraying their stomachs white in hot spurts. Francis' experienced hand milked every drop out of him.

Francis thrust brutally four more times, punctuated by breathy gasps from the spent Spaniard, before he spilled his seed deep inside the quivering mess below him. Antonio whimpered pitifully from the sensitivity of his inner walls.

They panted in the heavy post-coital quiet for minutes, slowly letting reality slip back into their skin and sink into their bones, anchoring them back to Earth.

When the knots in Francis' muscles had loosened considerably, he unlatched himself from Antonio and untied the necktie round his hands. At his wrists, angry red lines stood out on his olive skin. The brunet rubbed them, while the blond quickly wiped himself clean, pulled his trousers up and fastened his belt.

"Need help?" Francis raised an eyebrow at the Spaniard.

"I'm fine." Antonio choked out. The Frenchman was slightly taken aback by the undeniable anguish that resounded in his companion's voice.

"Are you sure…?"

"Yes." Moving to stand up, a sharp pain from his ass ran up his spine, bringing him down on all fours with a startled cry. He brought a hand to his sticky lower abdomen, wincing.

"_Merde._" Francis whispered. He crouched down to bring his friend into a sitting position on the floor. Sweat-matted bangs hung heavily over his face, his eyes screwed shut. His semen-splattered chest heaved.

"Francis…it hurts…"

"It'll pass in time. Hold on, let me clean you up." Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he ran out to the sink to dampen it, and quickly made his way back to clean the semen from his abdomen. Francis was meticulous in his work, and the Spaniard remained silent throughout.

"Better?" He brushed chestnut hair from his face. Most of the colour had left his cheeks, and his brows were still furrowed in slight pain, Francis noted with a twinge of guilt.

He nodded weakly in response. "Help me up."

Supporting him firmly, he pulled the tanned teenager up, but halted suddenly when he felt him shudder in his arms. A gasp from Antonio's lips; Francis felt a wetness seeping over his fingers. The Spaniard blushed deeply as he looked up at the Frenchman.

"It…it's leaking out. Your cum."

Seating him down on the toilet again, Francis handed him bunched toilet paper, which he took with shaking fingers and he cleaned himself frantically. Suddenly, a sob wracked through the Spaniard's naked frame. Francis froze.

Hot drops of tears fell onto the brunet's lap. His hands covered his face as he gave in to the overwhelming shame that had kindled the moment he recovered from orgasm. His friend was at a loss for words.

He went to him and held him tightly, pressed his head into his own chest, felt the tremors through his weakened limbs and the convulsions that came with each fresh sob of tears. He could feel his own heart pounding fast in his chest. His previous partners had never done this after the act; not a single one. What's more, he had never seen this side of Antonio before: weak, vulnerable, raw emotions taking hold of his entire being. He felt a heavy pang of guilt in his chest; he felt like he was intruding, as though he was spying on something he should not witness. Somehow, seeing him become undone in this manner felt more intimate and filthy than sex.

Gradually, sobs ebbed away to soft sniffles. He gently pushed the blond away, wiping his tears with the back of a hand.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't be seeing me like this. Sorry." Antonio kept his gaze down.

"No, I shouldn't have been so rough when I knew it was your first time. Forgive me." He stroked his hair comfortingly. The Spaniard sighed heavily.

"No, no, it has nothing to do with you, Francis." Antonio looked up at him, and forced a smile. "I'm alright."

"Then…what's the matter?"

"I…I feel...like I've done wrong. Like…"

_Like I've sinned. _

Antonio shook his head. "But I don't want to talk about it. Please, help me get dressed."

Francis decided against pressing him further. He did as he was told, and placed an arm around the brunet's waist to help him up once he was fully clothed.

As the Spaniard was guided out of the cubicle, his mind wandered to how he would explain this during his next Confession. As amazing and out-of-the-world the sex had been, the gravity of his actions hit him hard afterward. He was doing everything he had been warned against; and he dreaded the waves of guilt that would hit him when he would next face the alter…feeling small, sinful, unworthy.


End file.
